Burn
by Dropkicking Bullet Shells
Summary: Rick and Shane try to keep personal life and work life seperated in the middle of a blazing fire when they both so eagerly love him. Rick/Daryl/Shane Love Triangle AU
1. Chapter 1

**A/N-** No Zombies, same characters, AU  
I got this idea when I walked in and saw my parents watching Rescue Me a couple of times. Yeah, the first time it was in the middle of a sex scene, so... awkward. The second time was the middle of a fire and this idea was discovered. Firefighters. Hmm...

**Plot- **Rick and Shane try to keep personal life and work life seperated in the middle of a blazing fire when they both so eagerly love him. Rick/Daryl/Shane Love Triangle AU

**Disclaimer- **I don't own Walking Dead, only the occasional OC that may or may not show up.

**Warnings-** Adult themes of a sexual nature, possible noncon/dubcon, intence violence, life threatening situations, harsh language, alcohol abuse, etc.

**Parings- **Possible onesided Rick/Daryl; Possible onesided Shane/Daryl

XxxX

"A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war and a time of peace."  
_Unknown_

XxxX

**Burn-**

_ Flames crackled and spat angry hateful words that caught on skin and fabric and whatever material or living creature it could sink its needy little teeth into. It hissed and clawed its way through anything, leaving everything smoking and sizzling in its dry, hateful heat. It ate at walls, leaving behind nothing but charred holes and a naked, blackened skeleton. It tainted the air with its sooty fumes and it filled Rick's lungs and left him absolutely breathless._

_ He tried to inhale and he choked and nearly hacked out a lung for his trouble. He stopped trying to breath and focused on looking instead._

_ Watching for a flash of movement, the sound of desperate shuffling, the smell of anything other than smoke and death and burns; just anything. Rick's eyes skittered over the too bright, too crowded room hysterically. _

_ It scared him how gravely alone he was. _

_ His throat was dry and scratchy. He tried to call out to anyone who could still hear him, but he was all by himself and no one would have answered him anyway. His hearing was going bad, the building kept crashing and crushing loudly on either side of him leaving him deaf and his ears ringing and echoing the noise at the same time. His head was light. Too light, and that left him woozy. Probably from lack in oxygen._

_ Rick reached back for his mask, hoping his breathing apparatus would keep enough of the smoke at bay, let him breath in the air he needed to keep his heavy limbs moving. He knew if he stopped he would die. _

_ He felt his gloved fingers brush against the plastic glass of his mask and it fumbled off and away from him and he tried to reach for it and it kept slipping out of reach and he felt so utterly stupid because it was attached to him and it shouldn't have been that hard to grab hold of._

_ His mind was clouded, like the ceiling above him, and thinking was too much of a challenge._

_ His knees buckled, mostly due to frustration, and he felt himself hit the ground and what was left of the air in his lungs being forced out. He gagged and gasped for another, newer breath and it didn't come. He was left on the floor, suffocating, wheezing as his lungs and his throat cried out, but nothing went in and nothing came out._

_ He was going to die._

_ "Rick!" that voice sounded so familiar. He wanted to sigh in relief but he couldn't. It hurt. "Rick!" the call came again, over the rippling of the fire and the creaking of the big, old building's bones as it was slowly eaten away, left defenseless._

_ Rick wanted to call back to the voice, tell them where he was. He opened his mouth, his lips cracking and bleeding, and he felt his mouth moving but still nothing._

_ He was so desperate. He could feel the will to live pushing and tugging at his useless, ragdoll of a body but it remained unresponsive. He didn't want to die like this. Like a dysfunctional heap of wasted skin and muscle, like a dried up slab of wood for the fire._

_ He would have wailed at the irony of it all. A firefighter ending as only kindling for a fire. _

_ The thought would have made him laugh and sob and he felt tears prickle desperately around his eyes as his brain kept screaming at his body to move but it just wouldn't. He didn't want to die. Not yet. He had so much to do._

_ His fingers twitched._

Rick woke with a start, his breath coming to him in fruitful, deprived waves and he felt his lungs drink in their fill and he gasped in relief.

He was sweaty and warm and so very thankful he had woken up silently. He held his breath, much to his body's irritation, and waited and listened until he was sure he heard everyone sleeping quietly.

He exhaled slowly when he didn't hear anything out of the ordinary.

The firehouse's sleeping quarters were dimly lit. Enough to be considered dark, but not dark enough that he couldn't see the outlines of his fellow firefighter's sleeping forms. Four other beds, four other lumps of pillow and comforter and man.

Rick leaned back and let his head drop back on his pillow. He was feeling the beginnings of a headache coming on. His ears were still ringing and his heart beat was still thumping away in his ear like a steady, calming metronome.

His breath began to even out as he lay there.

He had had that dream before; too many times before. It was sometimes different. Today it was normal, just him in the fire, but sometimes there were the others. Sometimes T-Dog came in and saved him, hiked him up over his meaty shoulder and smirked at him and told him he'll be alright and they made it out and he gets a glass of water and some air and sometimes it's Shane who saved him, dragging him to his feet and forcing his breathing mask on his face and encouraging him forward. Sometimes Glenn showed up and smiled at him and Rick got his strength back and together they put out the fire and went home and told stories and laughed about the silly amount of fear Rick had experienced.

Rick always preferred those nights. He even preferred the dream he had tonight, the one where he just layed there and he was so alone, over the ones he had when he was very stressed or went to sleep angry or sad or after a very traumatic night saving the city.

Those nights, in his dreams -his nightmares- he would start out alone and he was trying to breathe and he felt so scared and he was just about to tip over the edge of unconsciousness, but then there was a presence beside him, precious and fragile and ever so strong. It was always Daryl on those nights, and the man was flipping him over from where he lay on his stomach to his side or to his back, and he would force his mask on his face and whisper to him. Rick could never hear him over the sounds of the fire. Daryl would mouth the words for Rick to move and he would try, but he still couldn't and it felt like there was a truck parked on him and his chest and Daryl would move to scoop him up, pressing his calloused, careful hands against him but then the building would always collapse and Daryl would be gone.

Rick never died on those nights, but he watched Daryl die over and over and over again. Large planks of wood crushing Daryl and flames licking at his skin and the floor giving way just a few feet from Rick and swallowing Daryl whole.

Rick always woke up screaming on those nights. He lashed out at anyone who was beside him, trying to hold him steady or calming him in his restless sleep, but Rick would reach out to cover his face and he find he was crying, too and he would be so filled with shame. Sometimes it's Shane or T-Dog or even Glenn by his side on those nights, and he would tell them he was alright, and he would send them back to their own fitful dreams. Sometimes, though, it was Daryl and Rick felt so relieved that he would reach out and tug the surprised, unsociable man close and hold him tight and just breathe in his scent. Daryl didn't usually smell like fire. He usually smelled of the forest and of coffee and occasionally of cinnamon or mint. Daryl never questioned Rick or those odd, awkward midnight hugs and for that, Rick was thankful.

He wouldn't know how to answer any of his questions anyway.

That night, Rick woke alone. His dream had been rather minor though and he was not surprised his silent startle hadn't disturbed anyone else.

He settled back into his pillow, just like after every single one of his scenes, and he fell back to sleep. He usually didn't dream twice in one night.

XxxX

"Hey, Glenn!" Shane bellowed from the kitchen, his teasing voice carrying all through the firehouse, "C'mere!"

Glenn, the eager kid that he was, was at Shane's side at a record speed and awaiting his superiors orders. Technically, everyone at the firehouse was Glenn's superior, seeing as he was only a probationary firefighter; a beginner.

"Do me a favor and get this form from Dale, would you?" Shane wrote down a series of six digits on his used napkin with one of the pens he left here and there. Glenn shot him a curious glance, then shot the look at the crumpled paper as he picked it up and scanned it over.

'ID10-T' was what it read.

"Dale?" Glenn's question made Shane growl in mock anger and the kid shrank down in his boots. It wasn't his fault he didn't know who Dale was, the old man was introduced to him as 'Lieutenant Horvath'.

"The lieutenant." Shane informed him bitterly. Rick could tell from many years of knowing the man that Shane was only playing a trick. Rick had also learned over the last week that staying mad at their new probie was an impossible feet. His innocent looks, cheerful smile and glistening, brown puppy dog eyes could get him out of anything.

"Oh!" the probie jumped to, his hand twitching and for a second, Rick thought he was going to face palm. He didn't though, and instead he smiled down at Shane and Rick and Rick felt incredibly guilty for letting the kid fall for such a silly trick. "Sorry! I'll get right on it! Sorry for the confusion."

It was tradition to screw with a probie all the way up to the day he became a full fledged firefighter and Shane had taken to it like it was his birth right. He had loved pulling tricks since his school years, Rick knew that personally, he had watched his best friend pull trick after trick out of his ass as he tortured the poor students and staff of their old graduation class.

Shane and Rick had always been best friends, since they first laid eyes on each other on Rick's first day of middle school in a new town. Shane, who was too burly for his age, approached Rick, who had yet to fill out, and Rick had panicked and challenged the bigger boy to a fight. Which he had lost. They had been attached at the hip ever since, from middle school to high school and from college to dropping out and going the fire brigade. They did everything together, like brothers, like twins. Including falling in love.

The first person who caught hold of their sexually curious minds when they were kids was Sally something or other. She had caused one of the fiercest civil wars on the playground that their middle school had ever known. Shane and Rick had fought tooth and nail for her beauty and were completely willing to rip out the other's throat for her attention. She got with Frank Durban in the beginning of seventh grade without so much as a glance in their direction, the bitch.

Then there was Kathleen, the smart nerdy girl who was just too cute. She was in a few of Shane and Rick's freshman year classes and she always knew how to write an essay or draw a picture and capture their little aching hearts in just the right light. She was a curious little woman, with a small petite frame and a set of glasses that perched on her nose and tilted down when she asked a question. That was the year that Shane had set up the 'I saw her first' rule and it had been in their guidebook ever since. She had let him down gently, told him she was crushing hard on their math teacher.

Then, Shane had thrown out the idea that boys were interesting, and at first Rick had been perturbed but then he really let the thought sink in when he set his sights on James Nirro. He had an accent, British, and Rick had never found himself so sexually frustrated. James was the quarterback and so straight it was painful, but when he looked at Rick he would always give him this small, friendly smile that sent butterflies stirring in his belly. Shane liked him, too, but that was the year, senior year, when he used Shane's 'I saw her first' rule against him. Rick never got up the courage to admit his feelings to James, but James got his girlfriend pregnant half way through the year and had to drop out.

Over the summer, after graduation, Rick and Shane both lost their virginity to a man who was almost twenty years older than them. Thirty-eight wasn't that old, so Rick hadn't minded. Rick hadn't been in love like he had been told he had to be, but after years of being rejected and put down, he had figured that love was some bullshit created by fairy tales to make you a prude.

Then he had laid eyes on Daryl Dixon. He wasn't sure who had first said there was no such thing as love at first sight, but in that first moment, he wanted to punch him in the face and show him the man he was looking at now. Daryl was perfect. He had slim, curvy hips that matched his lips, which twitched every so slightly instead of smiling. He had a firm, solid body, built from years of heavy lifting and exercize and despite that, Rick was scared to touch him; scared to break him. He seemed so fragile sometimes.

He had a set of sky blue eyes that could, and would, peer into his soul and squeeze on his heart and his throat and make his chest constrict. He had small, simple hands that had lived a rugged, evil, unfitting life and a mop of unruly, uneven brown hair that sometimes fell into his face when he went too long without cutting it, which he did often.

His personality reminded Rick of a stallion. He was untamed and wild but would approach if he trusted you not to attempt to break him. Rick had spent days on end talking to him, letting him, softly, talk back, earning his trust.

Daryl had a sweet, rich southern accent. He came from Georgia and carried with him a mountain of stories he would sometimes tell if the room was quite enough. It always was quite enough when he wanted to talk, though. Everyone cherished what he had to say because he rarely ever did talk enough and he was smart and clever and people, especially Rick, just soaked up whatever he had to say.

The only problem with him was that Shane had seen him, too. And they had seen him at the exact same time.

Years ago, while the three of them were in training for the fire brigade, Rick and Shane had set their sights on Daryl, who stood out like a sore thumb, at the same time.

Rick had expected sparks to fly and blood to be drawn over the oblivious redneck, but they had handled it much better than they had in their school yard days. They had went to the bar and gotten hammered, stumbling out their excuses for why they were better for Daryl and slurring out the number of reasons the other was not. They had called the discussion to an end when they were just about hitting the line of alcohol poisoning and called it quits, both agreeing that they would fight fair and square and let the best man win.

That had been almost three years to the day and still, neither of them had gotten close. They had certainly gained a new friend. Over the years of working through training and the probation years and then finally countless fires with Daryl and Shane by his side, he had found himself a family.

And yet, neither Shane and Rick were able to conquer his heart.

"You're not an idiot." Dale walked into the kitchen, finishing his speech, Glenn following after him and tagging at his heels like a lost pup, "Why do you fall for such silly pranks." Dale's tone was soft and not accusing or commanding. Rick liked him a lot.

"I didn't know it spelt out idiot!" Glenn whined exasperatedly, his hands thrown up at the ceiling, "How was I supposed to know?"

Dale turned around tapped one of Glenn's temples, "Just use your noodle." Of course Dale was the only one in the world who still used the word noodle, but that wasn't the topic of conversation that day.

Glenn shot Rick and Shane an upset look, his lower lip perking out in a slight pout. Rick knew if he pointed it out Glenn wouldn't have owned up to the childish expression.

"Any reports I should know about?" T-Dog entered the room with his usual nonchalance. He smiled over at Rick and Shane, nodded his respect to Dale and smirked at Glenn, 'You look like you just fell for some stupid probie trick." Glenn's silent sulking was enough of a response and T-Dog nearly cackled, "You cannot be serious! Which one was it?"

"The ol' idiot report." Shane grinned and he indulged himself in some high five-ing. "He fell for it so easily I'm genuinely worried."

"Shut up!"

The laughing only grew between the two and Rick and Dale both shot Glenn sympathetic smiles. The kid grew a bit touchy and pulled up a chair at their rickety, old table and flopped down.

T-Dog took a seat next to him and reached over to grab a donut out of the large, white box. His choice being maple. "Where'd you get these?"

"Stole 'um out of a cop car this morning." Shane answered as he dived a hand into the box and fished out a chocolate.

"Nice!" T-Dog laughed and Rick and Dale and even Glenn smiled. There had always been a love and hate relationship going on between the firefighters of New York City and the cops. The firefighters loved to hate and the cops hated to love. They had an ongoing battle that lasted over fifty years, longer than most of them had been alive. Stealing breakfast was hardly even close to the worst thing one team, per se, had done to the other.

The alarm gave off a big, beast of a sound that grasped eagerly for everyone's attention and sent them to work. It went off just as Daryl, calm and confident as he always was, was walking into the room. He turned on his heels and headed back out the door before the others had a chance to follow him. He was already dressed up in most of his gear when the others made it to the locker rooms and he was strapped into the truck before anyone else was ready. A well oiled machine.

Glenn was having a panic attack as he shakily slipped on his boots, muttering all sorts of nonsense about this being his first real fire and 'this is not a drill!'. T-Dog and Shane were laughing at him as they strapped on their breathing apparatus and tried to straighten out their mischievous smirks when Dale crossed the room in full gear and commanded everyone's attention. He snapped his fingers and the men looked up.

"Men, this is Glenn's first real fire." Dale told them and Rick saw Daryl poking his head out from the side of the truck to listen as well. "And he should be reminded of the four main priorities of firefighters in a fire. In order, men. The first?"

"Personal safety." they all answered together. Glenn kept making tiny, little moves to slip on more of his gear as they talked. He pulled the sleeves of his jacket on, a golden green reflective surface over a navy blue shirt and suspenders. The fireman dress code.

"And the second?"

"Saving victims' lives." the four of them chanted back. Rick worked with Glenn, moving little by little, not enough to disturb the group, but enough to get his shit together so he'd be ready to leave as soon as the group meeting was over.

"The third?" Dale was talking, firmly, over the alarm. His voice was calm, authoritive and much more important than the constant blaring in the background.

"Saving property." the men responded flatly, in one tone words. Together their voices reached over the alarm as well.

"And the last?"

"Protecting the environment."

"All right, men, let's get out there and put out some fires."

Lucky for Glenn, or for the whole group really, and actually the city, the fire was small and easily managed. It wasn't at all like Rick's dreams, where an ancient, old building was seized and held hostage by a terrible heat and a spit of smoke and everything was giving way under the rapid oxidation. This one was simple, and clutsy. It was a house fire that caught the curtains and the cheap, tacky wallpaper took.

When they got there, to the outskirts of the city, the little rundown home was sizzling and cracking in the heat, but only half of it was truly affected. A family was huddled in a sappy circle out on the street, hugging and crying and holding and their fire truck parked just beside them. Daryl and Glenn were off and at the hose before Dale was able to pull the large, loud vehicle into park.

Rick, Shane and T-Dog slipped out of their cover and joined their coworkers. Daryl and the probie were fastening the nozzle up to its proper position on the fire hydrant nearby.

Dale stood by on watch and T-Dog joined him, posting for his job as the single member of the Firefighter Assist and Search Team.

Glenn was still nervous despite his dumb luck, his fingers were trembling in time with the flames of the fire sparking up, in tiny flinches that startled Glenn over and over, repeatedly; redundantly. Daryl was forcing the head of the hose in his arms and pressing him towards the blazing inferno with a confident hand on the small of his back. Glenn kept himself together, just barely, and headed towards his destination with a hopeful, and clumsy, stride.

Daryl started up the water when Glenn was ready and moved to stand by his side. Rick and Shane followed. The three, and the two others by the truck, observed Glenn's first trial.

They moved as a group of four, Glenn and Daryl taking up the lead, oddly enough, and Rick and Shane in the back, putting out the few lingering flames as they worked their way through the home. It didn't take long, only about an hour, to clear the home and announce it as safe. Some of the family members approached them, thanking them for their bravery, asking them what they were supposed to do, and Rick kept his tired responses short and he piled back into the truck with the others. He heard Shane brush off the wife and pull himself into a seat beside him, mumbling something about rain and hell freezing over.

Glenn and Daryl were stopped by the smallest, youngest of the kids before they were able to hike themselves up into the truck's bed. He reached out with his tiny, insufficient fingers and tugged on Daryl's uniform.

Daryl, the intimidating brute that he was, turned to stare down at the kid silently. Surprisingly, the kid didn't react with fear and instead reached up and handed the firefighter a crispy, used Beanie Baby.

Daryl's eyes flickered down to watch the giraffe being pressed into his open, gloved palm and then back to the toddler's face, "Wha's this fer?" And there was that southern accent again, lacing his words with a taste of something almost foreign.

"For being so brave!" the kid smiled, his lips stretching over the gap where his front two teeth were missing. "I want you to have it."

Daryl swallowed and reached up to rub his glove over his forehead, leaving a trail of ash. He looked down to the beady little eyes of the animal and back to the kid. "It's jus' ma job."

The kid refused the beanie when Daryl offered it back and the firefighter nearly panicked at the awkwardness and he turned to look at the kid's broken parents who only nodded at him and Glenn was pushing him into the truck before he could protest any further.

On the ride home, Daryl looked down at the toy and fooled with the long, stretched out neck of the miniature giraffe and ignored the few loose comments Glenn and T-Dog shot at him. Rick was so tempted to reach over and rub the grime off Daryl's face, hold him close, question the look of lost longing in his crystal blue eyes, but he didn't. He just silently fell even further into the deep, dark, helpless pit of love.

XxxX

**A/N-** Hey I just met you, and this is crazy, but no. I wont be joining in on that. I don't. I just don't.

Soo, starting next week I will have the house to myself for several days. I plan to watch the whole series of Rescue Me, but who know, shit happens. Until then, I will be reading as many articles I can on firefighters because I simply put way too much effort into fanfiction.

Thanks to **writerchick0214 **for the support, as always and to **TasteOfVanilla**, who I was going to ask for advise on this but never got around to doing... So yeah... Thanks? :)

Another shout out to my great friend **XxstevilxX** who I met back when I was writing crappy One Piece FFs! We hit eachother up today and they offered to look this over for me before I posted it. Me, asshole that I am, decided to post it before they were finished since they told me it would take awhile... I'm bad... I don't play well with others... I'm sorry.. *sigh*

Thanks so much for reading and I hope you comment and tell me what you think! See you next time (probably in an update of Dollface and Ghost Town since most of you guys read those too, and probably heard about this story being posted via those) !


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N-** Sorry for the long ass wait, but this is, in fact, a multichapter! Let's hope I don't dissapoint you guys!

**HisGodGivenSolace**, **Idril Isil Gilgalad**, **Firelizard46**, **Downey**, **Peachy Moose**, **KagXmi**, **Damion Starr**, **writerchick0214**, **velvetemr73**, **kaszz-chan**, **Lost-Stranger**, **FlandusSaints354**, and **DeDe324** this is for you guys! You have no idea how much it means to see your support!

If you guys like this plot o' mine I got plenty more Rick/Daryl & Destiel fics coming your way! I'm pretty sure every single one of them is AU, too! Ahah!

XxxX

"It is an equal failing to trust everybody, and to trust nobody."  
_Unknown_

XxxX

**Burn-**

There was an old barren house on the outskirts of town that firefighters used for practice sessions when they were looking for realism and an exciting time. Some of the men were adrenaline junkies.

It was an exercise, as Dale explained it, practise. They were supposed to set up the house with fake people and light it up like New Year's Eve and as Daryl had said, rather sarcastically, there was no way that could go wrong.

The fake people ended up being a family of blowup dolls Shane had used in the early days of the week to prank Glenn, which had worked beautifully, and the firehouse spent the afternoon dressing them up in nightgowns and setting them in the ruins of a house already falling apart.

T-Dog went a little crazy with the gasoline, but he was a bit if a pyro. He and the others weren't aloud to admit that out loud or he'd be in trouble, but it was a cold, hard fact and everyone who watched his eyes light up while watching flames would see it immediately.

Shane was in charge of doing a quick one over of the house before it was engulfed and he took a walk through two stories off too much ash and decay before coming back and reporting. "It's clear, I only found a couple of barrels, but I don't think we'll have to rescue them." Shane chuckled and no one really understood.

"Are you sure they wont cause a problem?" Dale had a knack for professionalism, however silly. He didn't want his men put into any serious danger, despite their choice in work. The barrels were suspicious, seeing at they hadn't been reported when the last few runs had been done by the firemen from firehouses further out, but he trusted Shane as he would a son.

"They're not a problem," Shane smirked, "Let's light this baby up!"

The six of them were in uniform; gas masks, air tanks, reflective jackets and all. It wasn't too hot out, it was midway through the day, but the sky was cloudy and promising a storm.

Glenn looked jumpy, more than usual anyway. He kept touching his face; rubbing at his lips and scratching his neck in nervous jesters. He hadn't done any serious work yet, only holding the occasional hose and saving the not so occasional kitten from a tree and this would be his first real death trap. That's why Dale had chosen to do it.

"Get yerself ta'gether, Short Round, we ain't waitin' fer ya ta have yer manic episode." Daryl was holding a crowbar over his shoulder like a baseball player waiting for a pitch. He stood a few feet off of Glenn with an impatient scowl.

"Y-yeah! Sorry!" Glenn jumped at just the sound of Daryl's voice. He scuttled around and tried to figure out his place in life. Watching the poor kid's internal struggles being beached was almost painful but it was just a bit more amusing. They'd all been through it, except for maybe Daryl, but either way, it was their turn to smirk and chuckle in the background. And that's exactly what Rick and Shane did.

Lieutenant Horvath shot them a warning look from the benches as he slipped out his lighter and did the honors. The house stood in glory as the flames touched down and swallowed it up in seconds. The fire ate at it as if the house was it's first real meal, licking and savoring and drooling waves of smoke.

"Alright, men!" Dale had to shout to be heard over the fire's cackling, "Work fast!"

T-Dog manned the hose all by himself while the other four traveled into the decaying skeleton like a handful of ants. They split off into groups, or at least, they were supposed to.

"I'll go with Daryl, you go with Glenn." It wasn't all that weird for Rick and Shane to speak in unison, but that time it was. They shot each other a look and everyone was forced to stumble and wait for a clarification.

"Glenn, yer with me." Daryl spoke up once he had to wait in three and a half seconds of silence. He left Rick and Shane to stare at each other in a stand off as he motioned for the rookie to follow him. Glenn gave Rick and Shane an apologetic look as he followed Daryl upstairs, as if it were somehow his fault.

"It was my turn to go with him!" Shane pouted like a toddler, arms crossed and eyes narrowed, "I thought we had a deal!"

Rick felt his cheeks burn and it wasn't just the fire that surrounded him, "You did last time."

"Last time didn't count. We didn't even go inside!" Shane moved to follow the downstairs hallway. It led to a big open room, blackened by many fires and bright with the one already lit.

"It does too count." Rick felt like a five year old all over again. He felt silly. He followed after Shane and kept his guard up. The big, old house kept moaning and complaining as it was eaten away.

"Did not."

The first blowup doll was found on the remains of a couch, laying down and watching what used to be a television. It wore a bathing suite. Glenn had been the one to dress it and Rick was a bit too scared of the answer to ask where, exactly, had Glenn gotten a bikini.

Shane threw the toy over his shoulder in a fireman's carry and huffed something under his breath that Rick didn't care enough to catch. He changed the subject instead.

"You catch the game last night?"

"Colts against the Packers?" Shane lifted a brow to look up at him from the side. He smirked a bit and almost chuckled. "Hell yeah."

Speaking through their breathing masks wasn't a hard thing to do, but their voices came out grainy, like a robot. "The Packers totally wiped the field with those other guys."

"You a Packers fan now, 'cause if you are I'd have to kill ya!" Shane laughed and something upstairs exploded.

XxxX

When Daryl and Glenn got upstairs Daryl took to the job proficiently. Glenn was left in his wake as the firefighter was in rooms, checking, searching, helping, at a poetic speed. There were only two doors left to check when the fire got so much hotter. It was almost unbearable.

Glenn was sweating in his suit and it was so hard to breathe. He could feel his lungs screaming and his mask failing. He felt suffocated and his body catch fire. Only it didn't.

"Daryl," Glenn gasped, "Is it really supposed to be this hot, I feel like I'm in an oven!"

Daryl stopped, as if he had just noticed it, he turned to face Glenn and his hand dropped on the last doorknob and he shook his head no. "No, not this hot."

Glenn's head felt too light and when he meant to take a step forward he took a step sideways. His world turned upside down for a second. He could feel his skin blistering under his uniform. "Is something... wrong?" He was far too breathless.

"Probably." Daryl was far too calm. It made Glenn feel like he was overreacting. he grip twisted into the door and he pushed it open. A wall of lava met them and crashed through the ground at a terrifying speed. The flames teased the bottom of the boots and the hems of their uniforms with an indescribable heat.

Glenn was sure he had screamed out, but he couldn't tell. He wouldn't have been able to hear it. Daryl reacted instantly, rushing back towards Glenn, out of danger and back to the stairs. He was on the radio, calling T-Dog and Dale and the others. "Don' get water on tha second floor! Don' get water on tha second floor!" Daryl sounded violently certain and he had his hand gripping Glenn's, pulling him in front of him as they heard water hitting the window of the room they had left behind and then nothing.

XxxX

It felt like an earthquake and it actually hurt a little, just standing there. Rick watched the house collapse around him and he felt helpless. Protocol was to get under a doorway if you can't get out. Those don't collapse easy.

Shane was the one to force him there and when he opened his eyes he could see nothing but black dust. It was like an avalanche or a blanket of sand. Rick was thankful for his breathing apparatus. Shane was heaving air over him, his back against the side opposite Rick. They looked each other in the eye. Another close call, another near death experience.

It happened all the time. No biggie.

"You alright?" Shane's eyes were roaming over him, careful, like an artist with a treasure. Rick ran a hand over himself and came up clean. He was safe.

"I'm fine, you?" Shane looked alright, no blood spots or visibly broken bones. He could walk. No significant burns. Rick went over his checklist.

"I feel fine." In this business you would never know for certain if someone were fine until the shock wore off, until they got home and were able to strip down and get a good look for themselves.

"Shit!" Dale rarely swore. It was so quite once everything had settled, only the sound of shifting rubble greeted Dale and his curses.

Rick couldn't see much, even after most of the chaos and smoke had been smothered out. He could spot a dozen mounds of dying ash and Shane's big bear of a body heaving beside him but he couldn't see T-Dog or Dale or Glenn.

"Where's Daryl!" Shane tensed when Rick said it. He floundered around like a lone child in a supermarket and Rick could feel his heart stutter in his chest. He felt his own mimic.

Glenn was screaming from the house. Rick could hear him once the bricks had been lifted off of him. Dale and T-Dog were crowding around him, kneeling down and inspecting him with twin looks of panic. Dale looked calm for his panic, but Rick could see it.

Dale bit, "Don't touch him! It's a chemical burn!"

Rick was supposed to follow protocol for chemical burns and he heard Dale shouting orders at him but he couldn't focus on them. He was on his knees beside him, fazing out on Dale's rabid barks. His hands were moving on their own, digging into fallen walls and Shane was next to him, ignoring Dale and Glenn's pleading whimpers.

"What the fuck was in those barrels, Shane!" T-Dog had to step in to do Rick and Shane's jobs, he was glaring spastically at Shane as he made his way back from the truck with a first aid kit. The stairs were nothing but an outline on soot. Any weight would have sent them quivering to the floor in heaps of ash. Rick put a hand on the bottom step for support as he shifted and it crumbled.

"I have no fucking clue!" Shane tore off his mask and dropped it, the tube attaching it to him bouncing a bit as he kicked away debris. "They were so small! I thought they were empty!"

"We don't even know if it was the barrels, now shut up!" Dale's hands were working frantically, with trained precision. He had pulled out a bottle and when he poured it over Glenn's wounds they stopped sizzling. He poured it on the back of his neck, his arms and the parts of his uniform that cuffed around his ankles that had almost melted away.

"Wh-what the h-hell just h-happened!" Glenn had stuttered a bit, mostly due to shock. He kept trying to reach down to feel for injuries but Dale persistently smacked his hands away.

"Relax, kiddo, you're fine. This stuff hurts more than it damages." Dale shot his men a look once things had settled down, one that told Rick and Shane to move. They had stopped to watch in morbid fascination. Rick and Shane came alive again.

There was a grunt off to the side, underneath a carpet of embers and concrete. It shifted a little and lay back down with a reclusive shudder. Shane and Rick were beside it in seconds, grasping either end with forceful fingers and a desperate plea. It took far too much effort to lift, even just to push it to the side.

"Fuck!" Rick felt his muscles stretch under the stress. He couldn't think of much more to say.

"Daryl, you under there!" Shane was equally as maxed, pressed the the limits of his strength as he and Rick lifted concrete waist level. There was a shuffle in response and a hiss. Pained.

Rick shot Shane a look, checking to see if he had enough of a handle to keep the big lug of weight up by himself before ducking down, careful to keep pushing on it with his back, just in case. He crawled underneath it a few inches and reached out blindly for movement. Rick felt another hand curl into his and he nearly dropped with relief.

"Daryl!"

"It's me." Daryl voice sounded more scratchy than usual. He was speaking trough gritted teeth, too.

Rick wrapped his arms under Daryl's and dragged him out from under the wreckage, "What the hell happened?" Dale was at their side with the first aid kit and his magic bottle, Shane was there, too, as soon as Daryl was clear and he could drop the concrete.

"Someone was usin' this place as'a meth lab." Daryl was choking a bit and Dale was doing his best to relieve the pain of the chemical burns down his side and neck. Rick recognized T-Dog from the corner of his eye, carrying Glenn out of the remnants of the old building in a bridal carry. Glenn looked guilty and worried and barely conscious, but his half lidded, tired eyes lingered on Daryl. He whispered something to T-Dog that Rick couldn't catch and the man glanced their way before murmuring something back.

Dale motioned to Rick and Shane, ordering them to flip Daryl onto his stomach. They did so, despite the way Daryl almost cried out and they way he buried his face into Rick's chest on instinct, trying to hide from the pain.

"How do you know it was a meth lab?" Dale kept one hand on Daryl's clean shoulder in reassurance while the other worked at pulling his uniform from the open wounds that plagued his hips and his rib cage.

"Tha smell." Daryl grunted when Dale's old, cautious fingers went to snuffing out the pain that crept over his skin. "It smelled like chemicals a-and it was t-too hot." The stuttering came with each wince and gasp.

Rick and Shane both instinctively got closer, their eyes twin round saucers of worry.

"There were two barrels." Daryl took a breath, as if air would ease the pain. Rick saw Shane tense. "I think it was acetone."

"An ingredient in meth." Dale agreed to himself. "But why would it explode in fire? That's not like it."

"Tha acetone made it real hot and T-Dog mus'a seen it blazin' too bright, so he focused the hose on tha' window." Daryl ran a hand through his hair, slipping his mask off the top of his head in the process. It dropped to the ground with a quiet thud next to Rick's. "Tha water set off tha lithium."

"There was lithium up there!"

"It's another ingredient put int'a meth." Daryl's muscles released from their uncomfortably tense state as the cream from Dale's bottle took affect and the pain began to numb. "Explains tha chemical burns, too."

"I'll contact the police and tell them know about this." Dale put the medical kit back together and brushed off to find a phone and a cigarette. It wasn't everyday that he smoked. Only when one of his men were put on the line.

Shane stood from his crouch and slipped his hands around Daryl's stomach, lifting him to his feet in a smooth motion. He took caution not to stretch the skin on his bare back. Daryl would have been thankful if he had not also been put in a compromising situation.

"Fuck off, I can take care of ma'self." Daryl shot his trademark glare and Rick watched Shane smile back. He understood his best friends relief. He thought he had lost Daryl, too. They were firefighters. This kind of danger in the job was painfully routine.

The three made their way out of the body of the catastrophe and back to their home on wheels. The fire truck was aged brick wall red and was just as old. If its steel could talk, it would have too much to say, too many stories to tell.

T-Dog had sat Glenn at the back and wrapped him in a towel as most of the shards of his uniform lay in tatters, held at his waist by a belt. His yellow reflective vest was unsalvageable. Much like Daryl's.

"Hey." Glenn looked like a kicked dog, scared and tired, "Are you alright?"

Daryl looked over when he realized who Glenn was talking to, "Me? I'm fine. Peachy." With the top of Daryl's uniform off, the whole team could see his old scars and burns. Rick could see Glenn staring at them, analyzing his coworkers body like it was on showcase. He felt a little angry, and he could admit it, jealous.

"I'm glad!" Glenn smiled a bit, "Thank you."

"Fer what?"

"You saved me!" Glenn looked concerned, like he was sure Daryl had hit his head and forgotten, "You saw that blast coming, you got me out of there, you shielding me."

"I dunno what yer talkin' 'bout." Glenn had a lot to learn about being a firefighter, about his team, about Daryl. Rick could give him a lesson, maybe start with teaching him that Daryl would never except anything that he could ever do himself as good enough. Daryl would never except any 'thank you's either. They weren't his thing. "I was jus' doin' ma job."

Dale walked up with his phone in hand. "Alright, I called the police-" the team groaned, "-and they'll be here in a minute-" they groaned again, "-So, I say we move our asses and get out of here before they have a chance to sit us down and ask us a bunch of stupid repetitive questions!" And the team of firefighters were happy again.

Dale had wanted Daryl and Glenn to go to the hospital, telling them the cream should be enough but he wanted them to get checked out just in case, but after a handful of complaints from Daryl he had given up his pursuit. After years of working with Daryl, he had figured out that the southerner couldn't be bought, bullied or reasoned with. If he didn't want to do something he would go to Hell and back not to.

They were back at the firehouse by dinner time. Glenn was in charge of cooking, being a probie, but Shane took over and let him sit it out due to his injuries. Shane promised to make it up to him in pranks.

Glenn felt bad for letting Shane take over his job, even with the threat of more torture hanging over his head, so he stayed nearby in case Shane needed a hand. He found a perch on the kitchen table and let his feet swing back and forth underneath him.

"Do you think these burns with scar?" Glenn waited out the silence as long as he could and chose to kick up a conversation.

Shane shot him a look, eyeing the newly taped up wounds that poked out from under the sleeves of the crisp, clean shirt he kept in his locker. "Get your ass off the table we eat on and and I'll tell you." Shane waited for Glenn to slide onto one of the chairs, "If they scar, it wont be too bad. You probably wont even be able to see it in a few months."

"A few months?"

"Burns take a long time to heal." Shane turned to look back at the stove, mixing around the contents of chicken soup from a can. Rick and Daryl were both good cooks. Shane sucked at it. He wished one of them had taken pity on Glenn.

Glenn was silent for a bit, like he was tasting a question he wasn't sure if he should ask.

"Just spit it out, kid."

Glenn startled, "Uh?"

"Your question." Shane tapped the spoon he was using to stir against the side of the pot and turned to face the kid.

"Oh, uh."

Shane shook his head, "The worst that could happen is that I kill you."

"Yeah, that makes me feel better." Glenn chewed on his bottom lip and then opened his mouth, closing it before trying again, "Where did Daryl get all of his scars?"

"What?"

"I saw them today," Glenn's voice sharpened in panic, "and I'm certain that their not all burns. Some up them are cuts and," his words caught in his throat for a second, "and carvings."

Shane turned back to the stove. The soup looked unappealing and sick.

"Is he okay? I know if I ask him he wont answer me, so I'm asking you." Glenn brushed his fingers over the hem of his shirt and watched his sneakers. "I don't want him to be mad at me-"

"Then stop asking stupid questions!" Shane hadn't meant to bark at the probie, but it startled them both into silence. Shane didn't know how to answer Glenn's questions. He didn't even have answers for himself. He'd gotten a few stories out of his redneck when he was drunk and had no problems opening up, but he didn't want to believe they were true.

_'This one's frum ma pa, 'cause he was wasted and I didn't put the leftovers in the fridge in time. He beat me with his belt and locked me in tha basement fer two whole days.'_

Shane toyed with the wooden spoon on the counter, watching it bounce side to side in a dance, leaving trails of soup dripping on the counter. "Look, Glenn, it's none of your business."

'_This one's from ma brother, 'cause I walked in on him an' some girl o' his goin' at it and she left. He nearly beat ma ribs broken with his baseball bat. He actually broke tha thing, which is kinda funny, lookin' back at it now. It wasn't so funny then.'_

"If he wants you to know about him he will tell you about it. In his own time, in his own words." Shane carded a hand through his hair and watched their dinner bubble.

_'This one here's from ma uncle. I called him a bigot asshole when he told one of the neighborhood kids they were going to hell 'cause he fell in love with another guy. He dragged me upstairs to his room, told me he was gonna show me wha' bein' gay is. He held me down with one arm and with the other he-'_

"Just don't ask about it again."

XxxX

**A/N-** A little bit of insight and a little bit of drama! More to come!

I've started some stories, (Rick/Daryl, Destiel, etc.) since I last updated this, done a one-shot or two, I forget... But I hope this was worth the wait, it should only get more indepth from here, perhaps some character development?~ Hmmm?


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